A good middle-class moan

I am trying very hard to suppress the rising panic I feel in my chest. My cleaner appears to have gone awol. I love my cleaner, she’s like a human whirlwind – except she tidies rather than messing: an anti-whirlwind? An anti-whirlwind that leaves a trail of folded, dusted, re-arranged items that smell fresh and fragrant. Anyway: she didn’t turn up Friday which isn’t in itself all that unusual; what is unusual is not texting to say she’ll be along Saturday/Monday/whenever. So I texted her – no reply. I tried again – nothing. Decided to actually ring today and got a number unobtainable tone. I’m not really sure what to do: if she’s quit for some reason without feeling she could tell me – and changed her phone number in case I turn stalker? – I’d like my keys back, and to know so I can try to find somebody else.

It has taken me the entire day to muck out and dust the living room. Haven’t hoovered yet, haven’t got to any other rooms. There is a good reason why we have a cleaner: I am just rubbish at it. Too easily distracted and insufficiently interested in or motivated by housework.

Popped to the allotment for a whole 20 minutes this morning (that was all I was permitted before littlun started screaming and the rain started again) – just long enough to pop in some purple-sprouting that will hopefully be our first taste next spring if the pigeons don’t get it first.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 9th, 2007 at 7:01 pm and is filed under modern life is rubbish. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.